Streeks, No Counting
by TheBlockedOne
Summary: [AU?][SI-OC] A house-elf and a young boy weren't the most unusual sight. That is if you don't pay attention to the fact that it's the Blacks' house-elf that the boy is with.
1. Prologue - Child is Shaken

Prologue ~ Child is Shaken

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The first ten years of my new life were spent in abject misery. I was the son of some common street whore, or at least that's what the unsavory sort said in passing. It was far from the truth. The woman who raised me had fallen victim to her own heart. Her lover had abandoned her when she needed him most. Even so, she continued to talk fondly of him when anyone asked. I didn't share the same sentiments nor did I begrudge her. I simply felt anger bubble up inside me for her _dearest sperm donor_.

For the first time in my life I was experiencing what it felt like to have a beggar's hand. It wasn't pretty, and it certainly wasn't fun. My auburn hair made me a target for bottle throwing and arm swinging drunks. My guesses were that they thought I was some Irish. That's all the news would talk about in this age on this godforsaken island. Attacks from the Provos would be listed on the front covers of newspapers weeks old. God, it was like watching an episode of Terror in Resonance live. Art imitating life in reverse.

My life in the slums came to ahead when my new mother passed away while I was pulling a grab and run stunt at a nearby convenience store. The _constables_ , as the Brits called them, managed to chase me for blocks on end. By the time I reached her in hopes of pulling on their heartstrings she was nothing but a shriveled corpse laying on a pile of blankets in an alley way surrounded by snow. The British police had skidded to a stop where I stood frozen, surrounded by cans and bottles on the ground. One even attempted to rest a hand on my shoulder. I shrugged him off, dropped the shopping bags in my hands and grabbed the hiking packs next to the dead woman's corpse. With that in hand I fled the other way, away from the cops, the mess in the alley, and the life that I came to know there.

And that, that was when I stumbled upon a couple making their way into Diagon Alley.

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|September/18/2018| This will start short and gradually extend as it continues.

Edited |September/20/2018|.


	2. Chapter 1 - Grim Old Elf

Chapter 1 ~ Grim Old Elf

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"This should be the place," I muttered as I squinted at the phonebook and atlas in my hands. The lack of city lights on my side of the road wasn't doing me any favors.

My eyes turned to peer up at Number 12 in interest. I could see it, but I knew non-magicals couldn't. There was no fancy reveal like I'd seen in the movies. Maybe it was because I knew what to look for? But then, wouldn't have any of Blacks on enemy lines been able to access Grimmauld Place? Now that I thought about it, that was one jarring plot hole I hadn't noticed until now. The best conclusion I could come up with was that the place had yet to be put under the Fidelius.

Nodding to myself, I closed the books in my hands and turned away from Number 11 to ascend the steps of Number 12. Despite being there, it still felt surreal to be confronted with even more evidence that I was now living in a fictional world.

The doorknob lacking door creaked open, as did the wooden floors when I stepped foot inside. The place was dusty and reeked of age. Portraits in the entry way turned to look at me with curiosity gleaming from their eyes. I ignored them when the first of the shouts began, and side stepped the troll footed umbrella stand. That's when I felt a force knocking me back, and I ended up dragging the umbrella stand with me into the door. Not through it, but into it. The only thing that kept me from becoming a mess of massive splinters were the large hiking bags on my back.

"Who dares enter Mistress Black's abode!" growled a wrinkled old thing above me.

Belatedly, I realized that that _thing_ was Kreacher the house-elf.

"Isn't she suppose to be dead by now or something?" I said before I could stop myself.

That seemed to do it for poor battered Kreacher. It was like he snapped out of some delusional trance when he collapsed to the ground in tears. I winced. Walburga Black must have died some time recently then.

Sighing, I unstrapped myself from the packs on my back and pulled away from the door. Unfortunately, that didn't help me get out of the floor. I was sunk in waist deep.

"Kreacher," I called. But the elf continued to cry. "Kreacher! I'm here to help with that task Regulus left you!"

It was as though a switch had flipped in the elf's mind, because he was attentive at once.

"Master Regulus?" he sniffed, drying away the tears with the collar of his pillow case.

"Yes, Regulus," I told the elf soothingly. "I know how to destroy the thing he left behind. In exchange, I want access to this house. Oh and can you get me out of this?" I made my point by trying and failing to climb out of the floor I'd sunken into. I only succeeded in knocking my foot against the umbrella stand that was submerged along with me.

Kreacher didn't answer, but that was alright. His actions were more than enough.

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|September/18/2018| An agreement. Don't underestimate a house-elf's loyalty.

Edited |September/20/2018|.


	3. Chapter 2 - Sullen Roof

Chapter 2 ~ Sullen Roof

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The House of Black had some odd tastes. That much was evident as I walked around and examined their ancestral home. The place really did live up to its name. It really was a grim old place. It was for that reason that I'd taken to certain areas and not others. The kitchen for example, lacked any dark artifacts and there were no house-elf heads mounted on plagues there. Niether were there any in the dining area nor in the bedrooms scattered around the three upper floors of Grimmauld Place. That was also the reason why I avoided the drawing room and made my way up and down the first landing rather quickly. I found the elf heads mounted on the first landing stairway very disturbing, and the drawing room reeked of mold. Not even the home's bathrooms were in that much of a disarray.

"Alright," I sighed as I sat down on a cleaned stool Kreacher had pulled up for me. We were in the kitchen, and I was sitting at the kitchen table that had recently been cleaned by the elf as well. "The first order of business is getting this house back in shape. While it's not in the best of conditions, it isn't a lost cause either; at least not yet."

Kreacher nodded. Though he didn't seem happy to have his handy work put under scrutiny like that.

"I'm going to help you," I said carefully.

The house-elf growled and tried to throw his dusty dishrag at me. I threw myself off the stool to dodge the thing, and it ended up slamming into the cabinets behind me. That was when the banging sounds began. I decided to wait out Kreacher's rage. Peeking out from under the table I realized that Kreacher had had Salazar Slytherin's Locket on him this whole time. He must have taken it off and was now using it as a batting ram for his frying pan.

 _Why would- Of course! I promised him I'd help him destroy it! He must've retrieved it when I passed by the drawing room!_

Without thinking, I lunged myself over the table and snatched the frying pan out of Kreacher's hands. Then I batted the Locket off the table, to the far sides of the room.

"Before we begin though," I said as I pointed the frying pan at Kreacher, "let's establish some ground rules. Number one, no interacting or dealing with dark artifacts without someone knowing and being present for it." Kreacher looked ready to object, but my glare seemed to quell him. "Number two, all dark artifact are here by quarantined to the drawing room, and no one can enter alone. Got that?"

Kreacher bowed his head in acceptance and muttered, "Yes, monsieur."

I exhaled loudly and dropped the frying pan in my hand before sliding off the table to reach out and rest a pair of hands on Kreacher's shoulders. "Listen, I know I may seem like an ass, I mean arse, right now, but you have to trust me on this." Then I gestured to room around us. "Look around you Kreacher. Is this the extent at which a house-elf of The Most Noble and Ancient House of Black is willing to go to care for their master's house?"

Kreacher didn't answer, and I bit my lip before continuing; this time in an effort to appeal to his honor instead of his pride. "If not, then something must have caused those short comings. You need to part from that Locket, and you need to be at your best to give Regulus' task your all."

The mere mention of Regulus' seemed to get the gears turning in the elf's head. He promptly jerked his head up and down in agreement. "Yes, yes, Kreacher must give his best for Master Regulus," muttered the elf before taking up the frying pan off the table.

Understanding what he was about to do I gave him some space and left the kitchen. I felt guilt settle into the pit of my stomach as I left the basement. I both hated and loved having that sway over someone.

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True to his word, Kreacher had kept away from the Locket from there on in. I had him direct me to where he had stashed it in the drawing room. I plopped it down with a torn oven mitten covered hand. Then I scurried away, tossing the oven mitten at whatever was inhabiting the cabinets there. They didn't seem overly fond of humans. We hadn't wandered in there ever since.

That didn't stop me from nicking an old condemned tape roll from a near by pound shop. It was an outdated Halloween decoration that the owner had tossed into a cart filled with a variety of other things he was going to throw out. I thought it was a worthwhile find. The tape fit right in along with the rest of Grimmauld Place, and it helped cement the fact that I was serious about quarantining the drawing room. I was afraid Kreacher would relapse in a bid to finish the task without me, so I hoped the tapes would do their job and remind him of our agreement whenever he did.

By the end of December Kreacher had gone three weeks without approaching the Locket. By then, we also managed to tear out any worn out carpet and wallpaper from the habitabal rooms and cleaned out the areas of imidiate concern. Those areas were that of the entry way, main hall, stairs, kitchen, bathrooms, dining room, and the first bedroom on the second landing. I could've occupied the bedroom on the first landing, but I didn't feel comfortable being that close to the drawing room.

Rising up from another painstaking clean up job, I stuffed the rag I was using into the bucket next to me and wiped away at the sweat on my brow. "We need to celebrate," I told Kreacher.

Kreacher paused in his scrubbing and sent me a perplexed look.

"The New Year is fast approaching. We spent most of the entirety of Christmas-" A growl from Kreacher had me amending that phrase. "Sorry, Yule, doing house work."

"You is chose to help Kreacher," reminded the elf.

"Yes, but that was for as much my benefit as yours," I replied in kind. "The last thing we need is for either of us to die because of over working."

"New Year's?"

"Yes, New Year's."

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|September/20/2018| An elf and his word.


End file.
